Camp Fun Massacre
by CatfishCKY
Summary: Crossover between Friday the 13th style and the band CKY - I withdrew inspiration from both elements! Please R&R, it'd be very much appreciated! :
1. Anonymous

**Present Day**

It was a dark night in the Oregon town of Hellview.

The clock tower of the city hall chimed out its 12-Midnight bells. The hollow sound resonated around the deathly-silent town's buildings and surrounding valley, yet not a soul was on the streets to hear its mournful, melancholy drone.

Well, not a entirely mortal soul at least.

In the murky shadows of Hellview, The Butcher emerged from his lair. Silently, he stalked the blackness seeking his next victim, pausing only to watch a police patrol car as it drove slowly by.

Moonlight glowed onto The Butcher, highlighting him and his deadly machete in all their masochistic glory. The duct tape that messily adorned his clothed limbs creaked and strained with the tense muscles bulging underneath it. Adrenaline and anticipation flooded through The Butcher's dead veins as he moved in for the kill.

The battle between himself and the original Butcher raged on inside him. It made his bones ache with the effort it took to restrain the power, but he was determined not to let the original Butcher get the better of him, flooding him with more blood lust, and making his veins pound with the lust for the kill whenever a potential quarry walked by.

It was an insatiable lust and try as he might, no matter how violently he murdered one night, the next night he would be yearning to kill once again.

The night was a shroud around him. It left him alone with his thoughts eating away at him, making his mind cast back to his childhood and teen years, cruelly reminding him of all the pain he suffered in his younger years.

**12 Years Ago –Oregon State High School**

In a jostling school corridor, a lonely 15 year old wafted anonymously through the swarming crowd of hormonal teens, all asking each other out to the Spring Fling – a popular dance at the school, which happened every year.

With long, blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, braces and plenty of constant bruises from many fights, Deron Miller never got asked to go to the Spring Fling - not with anyone.

He was an unpopular person due to previously having no friends who joined the school with him, and also being a little bit strange. His interests in old horror movies, death metal music and other unusual things had rendered him 'uncool' in a demographic obsessed with chick flicks, pop music and slapstick comedy films.

Playing guitar instead of participating in sports of any kind also rendered him unpopular with the vast majority of pupils in the Oregon State High School, who happened to be the blissfully, and somewhat jokingly popular Jocks who everyone liked. The way it worked in that school was if you didn't like the Jocks, or you weren't one, then you were nothing; a nobody.

Deron was the shy, retiring type, and was not the kind of person who wanted to be the centre of attention. He liked to believe if he didn't speak to anyone, or didn't hassle people, then they would avoid him likewise; although that was rarely ever the case.

Almost every day after school had ended at 3.30, the three most popular, muscular jocks in the school dragged Deron by his long blonde ponytail into the middle of the sports field and beat him up mercilessly. Crowds gathered around to watch the spectacle unfold, whooping and cheering the jocks on, never helping; until the Principal of the school would finally come along to separate them. The jocks were never punished, and it sickened him.

Deron learnt to never fight back, all it would do was cause more trouble and get him beaten up more.

He would then head home at 4pm every day, bruised and battered, and self harm himself as a way of trying to release all the pain and tears inside him. He wasn't afraid to reopen old wounds either.

For two long years the beatings and self harming went on for Deron, until he met Amanda.


	2. Queen Bee

**Two years later – Camp Fun, Oregon**

Deron was sat alone in the crowded cafeteria cabin for lunch, and his eyes were down, examining the scars and fresh wounds on his forearms.

His gaze shot up as a group of raucously laughing friends walked through the wooden hut with trays of food in their hands. His wild blue eyes lit up in awe and wonder as he spotted the teenage girl leading the group. Deron mused at the thought of her being a 'Queen Bee'; there was no denying that the friends surrounding her admired her deeply. She did not seem the usual Queen Bee however, she looked as though she had substance and cared more for her friends than fashion.

Deron found himself unable to tear his gaze away from her. Luxurious, waist-length brown hair floated in long tendrils around her face, bright blue eyes shone out from under long lashes, her luscious lips pouted, shining with pink lip gloss; and she boasted a figure to die and go to Heaven for.

She and her friends around her were dressed like rockers and punks, suggesting they were into very similar music types to Deron. They wore baggy fit jeans, studded belts and each wore a top of varying designs, from Gothic-type corsets for the girls to Cannibal Corpse and Iron Maiden t-shirts for the boys.

When all seven friends began striding in Deron's direction, he quickly dropped his gaze and studied his food anxiously, desperately hoping that they would leave him alone and not cause him any trouble - he didn't want any trouble.

Out of the corner of his blue eyes, Deron became aware that the group of friends had stopped right beside him. Slowly, his eyes travelled up the long slender legs to his right, his gaze falling upon the face of the not-so Queen Bee. He tried to look as innocent as possible to avoid any trouble.

The Queen Bee waved girlishly at him and beamed, showing a white grin and perfect teeth. "Hi! I'm Amanda Jewell. Just wondering if we could join you and sit on this table? The rest of the winged monkeys in this camp are occupying the other tables!" she said jovially, a gentle British lilt in her voice.

Deron stared in bewilderment, amazed that they wanted to sit with him, be seen with him. Despite being confused that someone actually wanted to sit with him, Deron stuttered an answer. "Um…Yeah, sure… Go ahead… Don't mind me." He said nervously, putting on a slight smile.

Amanda clapped happily. "Yay! Ok, thanks!" she squealed joyously and sat down animatedly, right opposite Deron and put her tray down on the table. It was full of fruit and the healthier options the Camp offered, with a trifle sat in the corner of it.

The rest of the group followed suite, sitting down heavily on the bench seat. A wild-haired punk sat next to Deron, and patted him on the back in gratitude. Deron fought the urge to flinch and accepted it cautiously.

As the other members of the group descended into chat and began eating, Amanda smiled and reached across the table to Deron, wanting to shake hands. Deron took her hand guardedly and shook it, smiling shyly. "Hey. I don't think I caught your name?" Amanda grinned politely.

Still bemused at the fact this gorgeous girl wanted to talk to him, all he could do was mumble a reply. "My…name is… Deron" he said mutedly, snatching another nervous glimpse at Amanda. She was stunning.

Amanda still grinned warmly. "Hey there Deron! As you know, I'm Amanda. I'll introduce the rest of the gang to ya!" she offered, then patted the back of a girl next to her. "This is Casey Nichols, she's my best mate!"

Casey waved shyly. "Hey." She beamed, offering her hand for Deron to shake. He did so, warmly. Casey too had brown hair, although hers was straight and shoulder length. She had welcoming hazel eyes, and a friendly face.

Amanda then introduced the next person. "This is James Swift. He's a loon, but a cool one!"

A strawberry blonde haired guy with a goatee waved over at Deron. "Hey dude." James was extremely tall, had a gentle face and ice blue eyes. Judging by how close he was sitting to Casey, Deron figured they were either a couple, or fancied each other like mad.

Amanda then introduced her next friend. "This is Brandon. He is James's brother and also a loon!" she finished, rolling her eyes.

Brandon waved too. "Hey, 'sup!" Deron waved back anxiously.

Amanda carried on. "The final three, sitting on your side are Lily Wilson, Chris Thorpe and Isaac Brooks." She gestured at these last three friends to be introduced. They all waved at Deron, grinning, their mouths stuffed with food, providing him with a very grim image indeed.

Deron nodded in acknowledgement, and smiled at them. He couldn't believe there was a whole group of them and he had been accepted by each and every one of them. All of a sudden, he felt very privileged; he had never been accepted this well before.

Amanda continued to speak, gazing at Deron with her beautiful, almond-shaped blue eyes, smiling, and her teeth so perfect and white, they transfixed Deron. "So, why have you had to come to this craphole this summer? My parents made me come so I could learn to be 'responsible'." She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Like I need to learn responsibility, I'm only 17! Jeez!" she gushed in frustration.

Deron began. "…Well, I…My parents…" he paused, thinking about what his explanation could be without sounding uncool, and not revealing the real reason. "…They go to some island on vacation, so they sent me here… Get rid of me for a while!" he forced a laugh, trying to sound convincing. In actual fact, this was as far from the truth as possible, his parents actually sent him to Camp in order to try and learn social skills, in a desperate attempt to try and stop him getting beaten up at every school they put him in.

James sighed. "Bummer, man. It must suck to have your 'rents go on vacation to some nice island and stick you in this dump!" he said, apathetically.

Deron nodded nervously. "Yeah it does suck… A fair bit! From what I've experienced so far, anyway."

Amanda smiled, and then brushed her waist length hair away from her face. Deron watched in awe as the luxurious locks glided along her shoulders, away from her breasts. He suddenly realised he was staring, and dropped his gaze sheepishly.

Amanda noticed this and grinned again. "So, Deron, fancy chilling with us later? Even doing some of the activities with us? Beats doing it without us!" she chirped.

"Umm, Yeah…sure!" Deron replied gratefully; glad to be not doing something alone for once.

Amanda smiled in acknowledgement, and studied Deron in intrigue. Any self respecting red blooded female could see that he wasn't a bad catch. She was fascinated by his long, dirty-blond hair and piercing blue eyes – all in all, a pretty handsome guy. Her gaze discreetly flicked down to the cuts and scars on Deron's arms and back again. Maybe there was more to him than he was letting on to her.


	3. Sensitive Issues

**Later that Day…**

It was activity time at Camp Fun. Trailing behind with his new friends, Deron admired the Camp's leafy undergrowth and amazingly quiet setting. Even though it was a holiday camp, it still had a peaceful, yet eerie atmosphere. He sighed in contentment as he watched the sunlight dappling through the canopy of the tall Redwood trees onto the boisterous campers trampling through the woodland below, and highlighting the new object of his admiration, Amanda.

He just couldn't describe how beautiful she was. She was like an angel, sent down from Heaven to protect and save the people with influential personalities from going too far. Deron knew for a fact he felt happier with the world every time he looked at Amanda. His heart fluttered happily at the sight of her, and he longed just to be with her.

Yet at the same time, she tortured him inside, by him not knowing how she felt for him, or even if she actually liked him. He'd sell his soul for one moment with her, just so he could know how she felt for him.

He was brought sharply back to this world as a heavy hand clouted him on his shoulder.

Isaac waved his hand in front of Deron's face, much to Deron's discontent. "Hey dude! Wake up, we're here! What world have you been on? Can I join you there?" he said gleefully, hoping some sort of narcotics or drugs were involved.

Deron frowned. "What do ya mean? I have been on this world…" he then paused, and thought for a moment, not actually remembering how they had suddenly got to a forest clearing, with a river bubbling through it. All the other campers were helping to set up the rafting activity. "…Haven't I?" he added feebly.

Isaac chortled. "You most certainly have not been! We've been trying to get your attention for ages!" he exaggerated.

Amanda cleared her throat, correcting Isaac. "Not ages, actually Isaac. Only about a minute really." She sighed dryly, rolling her eyes at the eccentric punk rocker. She turned to Deron, beaming widely. It made his heart skip a beat. "Don't mind him! He always exaggerates! What you been thinking about then?" she asked intently. The other friends wandered off to try and make themselves useful by helping to set up the activity.

Amanda sunk down onto a fallen-down tree trunk for a rest, and patted the space next to her, gesturing for Deron to join her. Deron blushed slightly as he realised he and Amanda were alone, and he sat down hastily next to her. Amanda smiled at him sweetly. "So what were you thinking about?"

Deron smiled back nervously. "Not much really… I was just thinking this Camp is set in such a nice place… But the camp doesn't really live up to the scenery. It's shit compared to its surroundings…" he replied in a hushed tone, embarrassed.

Amanda smiled still. "Wow, that's deep. I know what you mean though…" she trailed off as her eyes fell upon the scars on Deron's arms. She gently took his arm and studied them. Deron, shocked, pulled his arm back in horror, his expression hurt. Amanda looked apologetically into his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend." She dropped her head, ashamed.

Deron's expression softened, and he smiled slightly. "That's OK… It's just a sensitive issue I guess," he explained gently. He examined his scars and cuts with deep sorrow. It hurt just to look at them; they were a stark reminder of all the pain he had been through.

Amanda looked sympathetically at Deron. "There's more to you then meets the eye, you know, Deron." Deron looked at her quizzically as he contemplated her remark. "Well, I mean you come across to me as someone who's trying to hide their past, and attempting to cover your insecurities by coming across as confident, when in fact you are far from it."

Deron exhaled in amazement. "Wow, _now_ who's the one being deep?"

Amanda smiled. "I take psychology, sociology and Communication Studies as extra-curricular activities. There's not much that can get past me." She shrugged simply.

Deron went to speak, but was interrupted by the camp leader announcing that the activity was about to start. Deron looked sidelong at Amanda, and caught her eye. "I guess that means we've gotta join in," he said meekly.

Amanda smiled. "I guess so!" She chirped, and got up. She offered her hand to Deron to help him up. "Come on, let's go build some rafts!" Deron took her hand cautiously and got up, and together they walked over to the bustling bank of the river.


	4. Minute to Midnight

**Present Day**

It was Saturday 18th September in the lively town of Hellview, Oregon, Terry King the Hellview sheriff sang to himself as he performed his late night rounds.

_" 'I think that something is out there waiting, anticipation has grown, the air is black as can be, can't even see that my hand is in front of me, I'm overhearing a whisper 'they won't escape until the blood is set free...' " _

It was a song that had been released by a band five years ago, about murder, death, destruction and a ton of homicides that had plagued the state of Oregon four years before that.

And just recently, a brand new spate of horrific copycat murders had started up in Oregon. The first town hit had been Salem, legendary for its history of witchcraft. Terry himself was in the team devoted to getting to the bottom of these murders and discovering whom the culprit was. This murderer clearly had it in his sights to make a mockery of the Oregon State Police Department as he crept up and down the state, killing every descendant and relative of the children that had been involved in the Camp Fun Massacre if he happened across them, or even killing for no particular reason.

The Camp Fun Massacre had been a case in history that no forensic detective, police Detective or Special Ops officer had ever got to the bottom of. There was no absolute motive for these killings, no even the Camp Fun connection – in fact, no-one was truly safe. And now, as the copycat murders started up again, they still hadn't found the culprit who was behind it.

Sheriff King shook his head, dispersing the memory, as he came back to the present time. He looked at the digital clock on the patrol car's illuminated dashboard and noted it said 11.59pm. A minute to midnight. A suppressed shiver made its way along Terry's back, and he swallowed the lump that had appeared in his throat.

As Terry drove past the abandoned multiplex cinema, the art deco stepped sides and sweeping arches seemed to grow above him, looming over him in the night sky. A swing of the shattered, stained glass door caught the corner of his eye and he stomped on the patrol car's brakes, making it slam to an abrupt halt and stall. He peered at the now motionless door, which hung off its hinges and had done so for a long time, close to falling. His mind began wandering as he speculated why anyone would want to go in there. It only had beggars and homeless people in. Was it youths? Or was it something else?

The clock clicked onto 12.00am. And still Terry stared at the door cautiously. He went to reach for his radio – HQ needed to know what Terry had possibly discovered.

All of a sudden, Terry spun his head round to the driver's side window as a gloved fist smashed effortlessly through the reinforced glass. Terry shouted out in terror as the hand grabbed at his flailing arms as he tried to battle it off. Then the sheriff cried out again as the powerful, long-fingered hands wrapped around his throat and pulled him roughly out of the patrol car, slicing his flesh on the jagged remains of the window, not so much as straining with the weight of a full grown man in its grip.

Then Terry saw him. The subject of the twisted legends, and his ongoing case file - The murderer, the Camp Fun Killer.

He wore a black balaclava, with black tape-like material wrapped around it, his psychotic blue eyes burning through the slits. He wore a long sleeved shirt, which also had black tape wrapped around it, coiling down the muscular arms and across the slaughterer's broad chest. A large machete hung from his studded belt, glinting maliciously in the stark, pale moonlight.

The assailant wrestled Sheriff Terry King down to the cold macadam of the deserted road and pinned Terry, sitting heavily on his belted waist. He wrenched Terry's gun out of its holster and threw it far out of reach, the bullets clattering out of the barrel, then unsheathed the machete from his belt, and raised it above eye level, deadly blade facing towards Terry.

The Killer and Terry exchanged cold stares, Terry noticing true inhuman rage in the murderer's wild, wide blue eyes, a psychotic fury staring down into Terry's own petrified brown eyes.

After a long silence filled with deathly stares, the killer drew in a rattling breath that haunted Terry to the very depths of his being. "…No-one will understand what happened then…No-one but I… The Butcher will live again..." he hissed cryptically.

Terry snapped out of his terrified stupor and revealed another side to him which police training had long since made him forget. "…What…? What happened? Tell me, and I'll help…Just don't harm me, and I'll help…" Terry said desperately, trying to compromise with the sadistic maniac. "I worked on the case… I can help…" Terror was flowing recklessly through his veins, making him shiver feverishly and sweat profusely. His thoughts flooded with the image of his children and wife, waiting for him at home. His family whom he loved so very much may never see him ever again.

Without another word or care, the killer plunged the lethal machete down into the sheriff's abdomen, and repeatedly stabbed him over and over again. The machete went into Terry's stomach, into his chest, and into his neck. And with a vicious final attack, the killer plunged the fatal blade into Terry's heart.

The killer looked down at his quarry stonily, his icy blue eyes showing no emotion. He slowly stood up, still staring down at Terry's mutilated corpse. The killer then just stood, motionless, and let the warm blood drip off the machete's blade into a puddle on the road.

Two mid twenties aged women tottered down the pavement, their high heels scraping the cement, returning from a night out in the busy Hellview town centre. They had only just recently started going out at night again. After what happened nine years ago, they hadn't been eager to go out, since they had been 2 of only 8 survivors still alive from the Camp Fun Massacre. The mere thought of the nightmare vacation carnage sent shivers down their spine. Casey and Amanda had since lost contact with some of the other survivors, although the others – Lily, James, Brandon and Chris – they were still contact with.

As Amanda and Casey passed the bakery opposite the multiplex cinema's ruins, Amanda casually glanced towards the old cinema, tutting at its dilapidated state before turning back to talk to Casey. Abruptly, she did a double take and looked back at the cinema again. She gasped and then froze as the re-enactment of her terror in 2002 made the entire colour fade from her face.

In front of the multiplex, which was silhouetted against the clear night sky, a police patrol car was parked up; its lights on and one of its windows shattered. Beside the silent car, a figure stood dominantly over a limp body. A wicked looking machete was gripped in the standing figure's hand.

Amanda thumped Casey frantically, desperately begging her to pay attention.

Casey rolled her eyes and turned to Amanda, frustration in her expression. "What is it Mandy? It's late, it's cold and I do NOT like this darkness!" she hissed angrily, getting impatient with her best friend.

Amanda said nothing but grabbed Casey's chin and pointed her gaze in the direction of the cinema, where the dark figure was now heading at a relaxed pace towards the two women, the machete in his hand raised to a threatening angle.

Casey grabbed Amanda's arm and started pulling her away from the scene, panicking. "Mandy, lets get the hell out of here! Now! Please!" she pleaded urgently, but Amanda still stood, glued to the spot in terror, her frightened eyes transfixed on the approaching killer. Casey sobbed in anguish, and together, the girls sank onto the side walk, shuddering in ultimate horror.

The killer came close to the two women and stared icily at them, no emotion showing in his depraved eyes. He took long, silent stares at Casey and Amanda, as though trying to recall them. After what seemed a lifetime, the murderer spoke in a wheezy, breathless voice that sent chills straight through the two girls. "…I remember you…survivors…familiar you are to me…" he rasped, and then tucked the machete back into his belt. He took another long gaze at Amanda and reached out towards her, with long-fingered, bloodied hands. She flinched away from the killer in sheer fright, terrified of not knowing what he would do if he got hold of her. If she was honest with herself, she would rather just not think about it.

The slaughterer drew his hand back slowly, almost as if his feelings were hurt. He cast his wild, psychotic blue eyes over the girls, then turned on his heel and fled down the street with inhuman speed, clasping his machete close to his side.

Casey and Amanda stared at each other in disbelief at their lucky escape, as they knew they had seen some similar haunting eyes like that before.

In Camp Fun in 2002.


	5. The First Visit

**9 years ago, Camp Fun, OR**

Amanda remembered it as being a cold, dark, and rainy night. Foolishly, the reps had put her in a bunk with a wide, several-paned skylight above it, when she had clearly stated she didn't particularly like the dark or the night.

Amanda shuddered as she looked out of the skylight as the rain fell in sheets onto it, too frightened to sleep. She had been very unfortunate to be the first one to see Him. It had been on that very evening of April 18th when she had been the first living being to see the Feared One and live to tell the tale – if she dared.

He didn't have a real name at all, and very little was known about the sadistic killer. Only when the killings began, did the locals of Hellview adopt a name for him so that just the very mention of it would strike fear into the hearts of all the visitors, and sometimes, most of the locals as well. They referred to him only as The Butcher, the reason being that he literally butchered every victim of his that he captured, so that dental records or fingerprints could only ever identify them.

If they were lucky, that is.

It was a well-known urban wives' tale that as soon as the clock stroke midnight did The Butcher appear. Not a minute before and not a minute after. In the peak of his killing days, a curfew was actually introduced into Hellview, ruling that every citizen of Hellview should be off the streets and at home, by 11pm at the latest.

The curfew seemed a big hit, until The Butcher killed a resident of the town in their own home, at midnight. Then, governors of Hellview decided to take the curfew law out of action, as in the event it did little to protect the residents from harm.

Amanda gazed up at the gigantic skylight, and she felt her eyelids starting to droop as she became weary. She watched with tired eyes as the torrents of rainwater cascaded down the skylight's panes of glass, seeking their way to the guttering blindly. The longer she looked at the skylight, the more she began to make out another, larger shape on the window. She flinched in shock, and then opened her eyes further in an attempt to gain more focus on the shape.

As Amanda realised what the shape was, she yelped and scrabbled back into her pillow, as The Butcher looked down at her, his eyes barely visible through the sheet of rain. All Amanda could see before her terrified self was the large, human-like mass on the window, only glass separating killer from victim. He wore a large black trench coat that shrouded his bulky stature; a balaclava mask with tape wrapped around, giving The Butcher a contorted, broken visage; black trousers that made the killer blend into the dense rainfall and the heftiest military style boots she had ever seen.

He spoke, or uttered what Amanda believed to be him speaking; in a low, barely audible hiss that sounded like the static of a cassette. It seemed to be all around her, seeping its way through the dormitory, not seeming to wake up the other girls that she was sharing that very dormitory with. "...I've come for you… I need you to join me, Amanda…come with me…" The Butcher rasped, dragging his hand over the panes of the skylight, almost as if he wanted to get to her, to touch her and that only the glass was stopping him.

Amanda shivered and shrunk back into her pillow more. "Why do you need me? Why have you come for me?" she whispered, horrified. "What have I done?"

All of a sudden, The Butcher pressed his mask-covered face to the windowpane, making Amanda recoil again. She saw his hateful eyes burning through the wet glass. They were a pale, watery blue and showed no emotion at all. "I need you…to join me…" he hissed angrily, growing impatient.

Amanda baulked, and then shook her head adamantly. "No! I won't join you!" she argued back quietly, fearing she would wake the entire dorm and be called a loony for the rest of the stay.

The Butcher snarled, and his eyes burned viciously. "…Have it your way…dare you speak of me…or if anyone even dares to speak or utter my very name… I will arrive…at midnight, every day… until everyone has suffered! I'll be back, Amanda…" The killer finished, growling gutturally. With that, he vanished, just simply blending into the dark wet night.

Amanda thumped her head back into her pillow and sobbed herself to sleep, streams of tears running down her face. She didn't want him to come back…


	6. Intrusion

**Present Day**

It was 3.20am when Amanda finally dropped off to sleep. She had been unable to do so since she retired to her bed after a long night. The vision of The Butcher kept appearing in her mind's eye, and it had proved very troublesome indeed to push the image back out of her head. She felt there had been something strange about the killer they had undergone the misfortune of meeting tonight, almost like a close familiarity of some sort perhaps. She just couldn't work it out, and it was driving her mad in trying to do so. Maybe it was just the fact she had seen the notorious Butcher on another separate occasion and she was re-enacting it in her mind. She just could not figure it out.

As Amanda fell into a deep sleep of bizarre and disturbing dreams, she was unaware of the danger that was approaching her, as no one other than The Butcher himself climbed into her bedroom from the window, as silent and as dark as the shadows surrounding him. He clutched something in his strong fist, and as he walked, it oozed a thick, dark liquid.

The stealthy serial killer paused in his intrusion as he threw caution to the next room where Amanda's flatmate, and best friend, Casey slept. He grinned wickedly to himself as he discovered all was silent. His maniacal blue eyes glinted with deep malice in the light of the digital alarm clock as he watched over Amanda in her bed, with a slight hint of affection in his gaze.

The Butcher continued over to the bed and stood over her bed defiantly, staring at his beloved. Reaching over, he silently put the contents of his clenched fist carelessly onto her bedside table. The still, dead heart made a dull wet thump as it connected with the surface, but he knew that she wouldn't wake. She was too deeply involved in her dreams.

The killer then continued to watch Amanda like a hawk, as she flinched, tossed and turned in her sleep. Carefully, and without so much of a sound, he sunk down onto the bed and crawled over Amanda, eager to influence her dreams and make her utter his name. He wanted to relive it for himself.

Amanda dreamt as though she was back in Camp Fun, 9 years ago, and for once she didn't hate the memory. She was enjoying it.

**9 years ago - 11.56pm**

It was raining once again at Camp Fun. Earlier that day, all the 'happy campers' had taken part in the second half of the 'fun' activity of rafting deep in the woods of the camp. It'd been amusing in the nice weather at first, but when the weather had taken a turn for the worse it'd dampened everyone's spirits. Soon the activity became less fun, and closely resembled that of a military training exercise, Amanda had thought bitterly.

In an empty dormitory far from all the others, two people laid entwined. Deron and Amanda had given in to their true feelings for one another as they had taken part in the rafting activity.

Amanda and Casey's raft had been sinking, and as hard as they tried, they just could not right it. It was only until Deron, the smart one, had stepped in with a solution and helped them out. Amanda had realised then that Deron had been the knight in shining armour she had always dreamt about.

Tonight, they had agreed to meet up to get to know each other better. However, one thing had led to another and they had ended up cavorting on a camp bed in the lonesome cabin, fooling around like teens did.

Deron paused and grinned at the beautiful Amanda below him, as he leant over her. His confidence had flourished this afternoon, all the time he had been with her. "Would you have imagined you and me getting together?" he asked, "It's wild! I can't believe it is even happening to me!"

Amanda laughed, and it sounded like music to Deron's ears. "It is pretty wild! Considering we only just met yesterday! I never thought you were such a wild person Deron! As you've just demonstrated to me!" she giggled. "I guess you just can't fight animal attraction like ours!"

Deron smiled devilishly, and Amanda couldn't stop thinking how gorgeous he was. "As it seems, I am indeed a very wild person!" he paused and looked around the wooden cabin's barren interior. He turned back to Amanda and put on a straight face. "Will I be allowed to demonstrate how wild I am once more?" he enquired, a hint of a smile in his eyes.

Amanda grinned widely and pulled Deron towards her for another kiss, frantically grappling at his belt again. As Deron smiled and let her carry on, he caught a glimpse of her watch. The minute hand snapped onto 12.00am, filling Deron's heart with terror.

The Butcher was due to appear any second now.

Deron quickly leapt off Amanda and grabbed her up. "Amanda, we have to move now!" he cried and began pulling her roughly across the room toward the door.

Amanda raised her eyebrows in confusion at Deron, and struggled against him, vainly resisting his urgency. "Deron, what are you doing? You're hurting me!" she snapped angrily.

Deron stopped abruptly and turned to face Amanda. He clutched her shoulders and stared into her pretty face. His eyes were cold, and had a sort of urgent anger in them. "Manda, if we don't get moving right now, the Butcher will find us and spring on us. Ok Hun?" he gushed desperately. He had listened to the locals tell him this legend and he wasn't ready to disbelieve it quite yet. He was far too superstitious to be so naïve.

Amanda looked at her watch. It was 12.00am. Fear and terror washed over her as she slowly raised her head to face Deron. She wasn't entirely familiar with what the Butcher was capable of, but she had a pretty good idea. Her blood suddenly ran cold. "Oh shit." Deron nodded, then did a double take and looked back at Amanda. He looked deeply at her, and noticed the reflection in her terrified eyes.

The Butcher was standing right behind him.

Deron blinked and then rapidly turned around as the Butcher swung his lethal machete down.


	7. Attack

**Present time**

Amanda thrashed in her sleep as she re-enacted the memory in her head. Over her, The Butcher put his masked visage next to Amanda's panic-stricken, sleeping face.

He whispered at her, as he groped at her body under the covers. "…I want you back Amanda…we can be happy again…my love, I have returned for you…" The Butcher hissed. He continued. "Do you remember that night? I remember it well… I too was a victim that night…" he rasped.

**9 years ago 12.01a.m. - Cont**

Deron tried to dodge the wicked machete blade rapidly, yet he wasn't fast enough against the Butcher's inhuman speed. The machete's tip bit a shallow cut in Deron's arm, making him cry out in pain, and then he ducked as the Butcher swung again. Behind the Butcher, Amanda raised a shovel above her head, paused, and then heaved it down. A sickening crunch sounded as the flat side of the shovel blade connected with The Butcher's head. He tottered in his hefty army boots, and thudded to the floor. Out cold, for now.

Amanda grasped Deron's uninjured arm and pulled him hastily down the wooden steps of the cabin dormitory, guiding him out of the door, into the rain and vastness of the eerie camp.

They ran together, struggling through mud and fumbling through the dense woods of Camp Fun. They knew The Butcher will be back after them soon, and his hunger for the bloodshed would help him hunt Deron and Amanda with the greatest of ease.

As they fled, Amanda suddenly lost her balance and tripped on a root. She stumbled and fell flat onto the leaf compost and mud on the forest floor. Deron looked back and saw Amanda straining to get up in the boggy slop of mud. He halted immediately and staggered back to Amanda. "C'mon, babe! We need to get out of here!" he cried desperately, and clumsily helped Amanda up.

Amanda kissed Deron quickly. "Thank you! Now let's go!" She hissed and they began to pick their way through the thick, dense forest again.

The Butcher lay still on the cabin floor. His eyes snapped open, full of malice and anger. He reached out for his machete beside him and got up slowly.

His icy blue eyes burned as he raised his head to the ceiling. He breathed in deeply and picked up the faint scent of Deron's bleeding arm. He could smell that they were running, panicked, dazed and confused.

The Butcher started down the cabin's wooden stairs shakily, off to hunt Deron and Amanda.

Deron and Amanda reached the camp leaders' dormitory cabin, raced up the rickety old steps and began pounding on the thick Ponderosa pine door. Relentlessly, they continued thumping, until swearing and groaning started sounding from inside.

Eventually, after what seemed a lifetime, Jenny the camp rep answered the door dressed in a dishevelled nightdress and her hair tied up in bunches. She glared at Deron and Amanda wearily. "Guys, it's past midnight. You better have a good excuse for being up at this hour and waking us up."

Amanda eased Deron's injured arm around to show Jenny. "Is this a good enough excuse?" she said softly as Deron winced with the pain, a stony look in her eyes.

Jenny leaned in towards Deron to take a closer look at his arm. "It isn't too deep Deron, you should be fine." She reassured.

Deron grimaced and glanced at his wounded arm. The blood had started to congeal and his standard Camp Fun shirt was stuck to the skin around the cut. "Oh that's just superb. You want to know something? My arm hurts like crazy!" he said, clasping his other hand to the gash gently.

Jenny grasped hold of both of them, and helped them inside. She took a quick look outside at the dark camp before shutting the door hastily. She sat Amanda and Deron down firmly, then moved over to the kitchen area and filled up the kettle to make a coffee. Scattered murmurs came from the room behind them as other camp reps were waking and needing caffeine.

Jenny ferreted around in the kitchen cabinets for extra mugs and a first aid kit, and spoke softly to the two teens behind her. "So what happened to you Deron? What did you do to get a wound like that?" A concerned tone carried in her voice as she wafted over to Deron and Amanda with the first aid kit in her hands. She knelt beside Deron and eased his shirt's material away from the cut tenderly. There was a sickening squelch as the two parted, and Deron bit his lip tightly trying to stay manly in front of the two lovely ladies and reps.

Still contemplating answering the question, Deron and Amanda cast an unsettling glance at each other, before Deron begrudgingly decided to speak. He swallowed firmly, and spoke in a wavering voice, "The Butcher. He's here, he's back and he's as pissed off as ever," he said simply.

Outside the cabin, The Butcher halted his chase and watched the shapes moving behind the drawn curtains. Jenny had them now, there was nothing he could do.

With a guttural snarl, the savage hunter retired to his lair deep in the dark woods.

Jenny gulped and stared at the two teens in morbid fear. "That's not the best news I've heard all year, that's for sure…" she said quietly, frowning. She so badly wanted to tell the two teens that she was liaising with The Butcher, dropping him hints on potential kids who wouldn't be missed and whom of the tear-aways would be the best successor, but she feared telling them would be far too complicated and damaging for them to even comprehend. She certainly hadn't put their names forward, and it worried her that He wasn't playing the game any more.


End file.
